


Master Kenobi Goes To the Cantina

by AuroraExecution, w3djyt



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Humor, Intercrural Sex, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraExecution/pseuds/AuroraExecution, https://archiveofourown.org/users/w3djyt/pseuds/w3djyt
Summary: Or: 5 Times Anakin Tries to Help His Master Out, and 1 Time It Works"Obi-Wan does, in fact, go to a cantina periodically, and that time period might average out to every few months, or it did when he actually had the time.  However, Obi-Wan would very much prefer not to be reminded of these things by his former Padawan."
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 295
Collections: SW Especially Satisfying Stories





	Master Kenobi Goes To the Cantina

**Author's Note:**

> I’m of the opinion that every ship needs a steady supply of lulzy fun PWP oneshots, and since Obikin seems to be pretty skewed toward the big long serious epic novels (not that I’m not guilty of writing one of these myself), I thought I’d jump in with my own contribution to the “I just want a fun happy fic where nothing hurts, I don’t have to think too hard, and my favorite characters bang at the end” shelf. 
> 
> As it turns out, I struggle way less with Anakin so obviously I chose to write this one from Obi-Wan’s perspective. >> Many many thanks to w3djyt for her helping get these two to the finish line, and also for editing.

#### 1.

“Master?”

“Yes, Anakin?” 

“Is everything okay?” 

Obi-Wan looks up from the teapot, hands still moving. “What do you mean, Anakin? Everything’s fine.” 

“You just seem like you might need to, _you know_.” Anakin makes a head gesture as though he’s trying to be subtle. It’s not very interpretable. 

“No, Anakin, I don’t know.” 

“Get laid.”

There is altogether too much cheer and not nearly enough awkwardness in Anakin’s voice, thinks Obi-Wan. This is not an appropriate topic for Jedi to discuss so casually, much less for a former Padawan to be asking his former Master, not to mention it’s literally dawn, after the first night they’ve spent at the Temple in months.

“Anakin—” 

Anakin is still grinning cheerfully at him. Luckily, Obi-Wan knows the secret to getting Anakin off of any topic. “Weren’t you supposed to meet Ahsoka for sparring this morning?” 

“Dwang!” There’s a flurry of movement as Anakin makes a dash for his room, already starting to peel off his sleep trousers before he even reaches the door. “Why didn’t you remind me earlier?”

Obi-Wan calmly takes a sip of his tea, feeling as though he’s accomplished a great deal for the early hour. 

#### 2.

“Master?” 

“Yes, Anakin?” 

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

“I’m _fine_ , Anakin,” says Obi-Wan, choosing to assume this is about previously acquired injuries rather than anything else. He has a sinking feeling he’s wrong and things are about to get awkward again. “The saber burns healed before we left the Outer Rim,” he adds, trying to push this along in a direction he’s willing to handle.

“You just seem tense.” Anakin looks legitimately concerned, and Obi-Wan is momentarily distracted by a sense of affection that he’s been trying to reconcile lately. Surely it’s fine for Anakin to care about other people’s well-being? Surely it’s just a matter of making sure Anakin doesn’t take it too far. 

“War is rather stressful, you know, and so is chasing after you to clean up your messes.” The statement is softened by the good humor in Obi-Wan’s voice. 

“I’m just saying,” presses Anakin, apparently deciding this is his _thing_ for today, “you could go to the cantina.” 

Sith Hells, of course it’s about this again. Obi-Wan thought they were done having this conversation since Anakin hasn’t said anything since the last time they were both back on Coruscant, nearly two months previous. Technically, they’re back sooner than expected this time, but Obi-Wan was called in for yet another Council meeting and Anakin was asked to report in person about a special situation from his fleet. They’re not even going to be back for that long. Cantina, indeed. 

“I don’t need to go to the cantina, Anakin.” 

“I mean, you usually go every few months at least.” It’s extremely frustrating that Anakin is observant about only very specific things, and _this_ has to be one of them. Apparently assuming that Obi-Wan’s lack of an immediate answer is equivalent to permission to continue down this path, Anakin continues, “You were the one who told me it’s okay to go sometimes, as long as you don’t form any inappropriate attachments. _You_ said it didn’t make someone less of a Jedi if they need to take care of their bodily needs.”

Obi-Wan had, in fact, said these things, but at the time he’d been trying to give the least awkward version of sex education to a teenage Anakin. And Obi-Wan does, in fact, go to the cantina periodically, and that time period might average out to every few months, or it did when he actually had the time. However, Obi-Wan would very much prefer not to be reminded of these things by his former Padawan, of all people. That… makes everything ten times more awkward. 

“Yes, Anakin,” he finally replies to Anakin’s expectant expression. “I did say that—”

“So you should go to the cantina! I don’t mind.” Anakin looks quite proud of himself as he leans back and stretches over the back of his chair. There’s a moment where Obi-Wan is very abruptly reminded of the fact that Anakin sleeps in pants and only pants – this has been Anakin’s habit since years ago, to the point where Obi-Wan doesn’t register it anymore, except, well, maybe Anakin is right about the cantina. Force help him, Obi-Wan doesn’t like that thought. 

“I’ll think about it,” Obi-Wan says eventually, but he’s pretty much already decided he’s not going to any cantinas. At this point it would just feel weird.

#### 3.

“Master, did you not go to the cantina?” 

They’re not on Coruscant, which at this point is where Obi-Wan has assumed this sort of conversation is going to take place. Not that he’d prefer it take place at all, but he wasn’t expecting Anakin to bring it up while they’re out in space. For one, they technically have their own command ships and separate fleets, so by rights Anakin shouldn’t even _be_ here. 

“That hardly seems like your business, Anakin,” he replies, sighing. It’s probably not entirely fair for Obi-Wan to complain about his former Padawan sleeping in his quarters—after all, it’s easier to coordinate when they’re assigned together (which is often) if they’re both on the same ship, and it hardly seems necessary for Anakin to shuttle back to his own fleet just to sleep, particularly when the troopers had helpfully provided a spare bed ages ago after noticing how frequently Anakin stayed over.

That, and Obi-Wan realizes he’s responsible for Anakin’s habit of sharing quarters with him, since they still do so in the Temple. In Obi-Wan’s defense, for quite some time Anakin had seemed to move out, even if he was primarily using a private residence on Coruscant to visit a certain senator. Obi-Wan hadn’t figured out he should have been clearer about the rooming situation until Anakin was more or less moved back in (not that he’d ever _entirely_ left) after what seemed like some sort of breakup, and at that point Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to tell him to leave. 

So now he’s stuck with Anakin making himself comfortable on the more or less permanent extra bed in Obi-wan’s command quarters and asking nonchalantly about Obi-Wan’s sex life. 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay, Master.” 

“I’m _fine_ , Anakin. I don’t need to go to the cantina.” It might help, but he hasn’t had time, and the fact that _Anakin_ is the one suggesting it just makes it feel inappropriate. Anyway, he’s not lying. He can meditate. 

“Is there someone you’re avoiding?” Anakin plows straight through, as though Obi-Wan hadn’t said anything. “If someone’s giving you a hard time, I can go with you.” 

“I don’t need you to come with me to the cantina _._ ” 

“I could send Artoo?” 

“ _Anakin_.” 

Anakin fails to take the cue and instead keeps staring at Obi-Wan earnestly, as though he legitimately thinks sending an astromech droid to protect Obi-Wan from some aggressive flirting would be useful.

“I don’t need Artoo to go with me either,” replies Obi-Wan finally, not entirely sure what else to even say at this point. “I’m not avoiding anyone.” 

“Oh.” There’s a pause as Anakin seems to honestly consider this. “Well, in that case, you should go.” The cheeriness is back, to Obi-Wan’s eternal consternation. “I think it would be good for you. To get laid, I mean.” 

Obi-Wan tries his best not to splutter. “Anakin, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need to—to get laid.” 

“But—”

“Anakin,” interrupts Obi-Wan firmly, pulling out his Master voice because he’s had enough of this conversation. “Go to sleep.”

“Yes, Master,” says Anakin, but there’s a grumble to his voice that indicates this is, unfortunately, far from over.

#### 4.

“I still think you should go to the cantina, Master.” 

Well, he’d managed to stave off this conversation for a whole eight and a half hours. They’d slept for eight of those hours. 

“Anakin, could we _please_ —”

“I’m worried about you!” Anakin bursts out, which Obi-Wan appreciates, he really does. This sort of thing is why he feels people generally don’t give Anakin enough credit for being a truly sweet young man. Admittedly, they’re still working on the part where sometimes he cares a little too much, and right now Obi-Wan is feeling like maybe he should have been stricter about that, because somehow Anakin’s empathy is leading to far, _far_ too many conversations about whether Obi-Wan has enough orgasms in his life. They’re not even through breakfast yet.

“Thank you, Anakin, but you really don’t need to be.”

“I don’t know, Master, you still seem kind of tense.” 

“Yes, well.” Anakin’s not _wrong_ , which unfortunately doesn’t help. The more they talk about this, the less Obi-Wan is inclined to actually go to a cantina. At this point, he’s not sure he could even get in the mood if he were to go, knowing Anakin is fully aware of what’s going on. 

“I know things are busy right now, but next time we’re on Coruscant—”

“I’m not going to the cantina, Anakin.” There’s only one other direction Obi-Wan can think of to take a discussion about tension, other than meditation, which will absolutely not stop Anakin. “But I _could_ use a spar. Would you like to spar?” 

It’s a good thing he knows Anakin so well, because that question immediately derails any additional awkward sex-related concerns. 

“Ooh, it’s been a while, Master,” Anakin responds, already picking up his breakfast tray, impatient to leave. “You think you can still handle me?” 

Obi-Wan falls back into their normal banter with relief. 

“You haven’t beaten me yet, my Padawan,” he teases back, following after.

#### 5.

“Master, do you need a hand?” 

“I’m sorry, Anakin. What?” There are many ways that statement could go, but Obi-Wan has an unfortunate suspicion it’s going a direction he doesn’t want. He’s desperately hoping this is about literally anything else—it’s been several weeks since the last time when he distracted Anakin with sparring, and he’d almost thought they were done with this line of questioning.

But now they’re back on Coruscant for a brief leave, and Anakin apparently has made some sort of unfortunate mental association between their Temple quarters and the “get Obi-Wan laid” subject.

“Rex was saying the other day that sometimes you have to give your bro a hand in times of need, like a war, and there’s no shame in that.” 

It’s hard to envision Captain Rex actually having this kind of conversation with Anakin, but then again, three and a half months ago Obi-Wan would have had a hard time envisioning himself having this kind of conversation with Anakin, and now look where they are. 

It’s almost getting too easy to brush off Anakin’s attempts to discuss Obi-Wan’s sex life, until Obi-Wan connects the dots back to Anakin’s original offer.

“ _Anakin_ ,” he replies, horrified. Anakin is his _Padawan_. Well, former Padawan, technically, and it’s been several years since his knighting, and he _is_ an adult now who can make his own choices, and—anyway, this is still wholly inappropriate. “You aren’t seriously—?”

“Of course I am!” Anakin almost seems offended that Obi-Wan would think this is some sort of joke or maybe just Anakin not actually thinking this whole thing through. “Look, you obviously need it, and you won’t go to the cantina for some reason, and it’s not like there are a lot of other options right now. Obviously, as a friend, I should help you out.” 

“I don’t need to go to the cantina, and I certainly don’t need you to do… _that_.” 

“Obviously you do,” says Anakin confidently, like he says most things. He takes a second to continue toweling his hair. “We’ve been sparring regularly for a few weeks and you’re still pretty tense.” 

The problem, of course, is that Anakin isn’t entirely wrong. In fact, Anakin is pretty much entirely _right_ for once. Obi-Wan _is_ feeling the effects of too much space and adrenaline, and probably _could_ use a night out. That being said, between doing his duty as a general and Jedi in the war, and Anakin wanting to talk about the cantina thing, Obi-Wan hasn’t had time or interest lately. The sparring is helpful in the moment, but afterward he tends to get stressed again fairly quickly.

At this point, though, he’d be willing to go back to the cantina discussions, which were simply awkward. Now he’s faced with Anakin casually asking if he wants a friendly handjob. 

As usual, Anakin takes silence as permission to continue. 

“Anyway, what else are you going to do?” He pauses, but before Obi-Wan can cut in, Anakin answers his own question. “I guess you could talk to a trooper, but that feels a little weird.” 

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan finally manages to interrupt, desperately seizing on the last statement. “And can you understand why you find it uncomfortable to proposition a trooper? Is it possibly because of the difference in rank? Or you having power over them?” 

“That makes sense,” says Anakin pensively, “but in that case, I’m _definitely_ the best option. I mean, _I’m_ a general, _you’re_ a general…”

“And your former master, and a councilor!” 

Anakin doesn’t look concerned—in fact, he looks far too comfortable standing around in his sleep pants in the common area of their Temple rooms, still slightly damp from the fresher. Obi-Wan is momentarily distracted by the affectionate thought that his former Padawan seems to feel at home here. 

“Yeah, but I’m not a Padawan anymore, and it’s not like I _listen_ to the council.” Anakin shrugs, approaching Obi-Wan. “I don’t see a problem.” 

No. Obi-Wan is not going to deal with this, from his own _Padawan_ – former, his mind helpfully reminds him, and Obi-Wan tamps it down. He is not so desperate that he needs Anakin to give him some sort of awkward brotherly fumble out of pity. He’s fine. He’ll be fine. 

“Anakin,” he starts, trying to find a way to gently explain that he appreciates it but will Anakin please just leave him alone about this whole thing. 

Big blue eyes look back at him, earnest and well-meaning, and maybe even a little eager. 

Sith hells. Obi-Wan’s decades of Jedi training have not prepared him for this.

“I will _handle_ the tension, Anakin, although I appreciate the concern,” he finally replies, firm. 

“If that’s what you want, Master.” Anakin looks incredibly dubious. “But are you sure you don’t want me to just—?” And then he curls his fingers and makes a shaking motion with one hand.

There’s a pause as Obi-Wan blinks at Anakin, who is grinning cheerily back.

“Good night, Anakin,” says Obi-Wan, shutting the door in his face.

#### +1

“Master?”

“Yes, Anakin?” 

“I don’t mind.” Anakin pauses, like he’s trying to be subtle. “Continuing. If you want.”

“Continuing what, Anakin?” 

“You know,” answers Anakin, “The cantina.”

That hardly makes sense to Obi-Wan. They weren’t doing much in the cantina – he hadn’t even had much to drink since they were on the job. It should have been a simple mission too, just some straightforward observation and information gathering, something to do with illicit trade in Coruscant’s lower levels and the corrupt politicians behind it. It had technically been assigned to Obi-Wan, but Anakin had insisted on tagging along, which was suddenly common again now that he wasn’t running off to meet Senator Amidala every chance he got. 

Things had been going well until a Senator had shown up himself and started sauntering his way toward them. Obi-Wan had been considering how to avoid having the Senator recognizing them despite their complete lack of disguises, but before he had finished the thought, Anakin had pushed himself out of his seat and into Obi-Wan’s lap in a single fluid movement, putting his arms up against the wall on either side of his master’s head as though they were getting intimate. 

Nothing had _happened_ , exactly, not that Obi-Wan was expecting it to, but for a moment he hadn’t been entirely sure where this was going and had stared up at Anakin, thinking his face was, well, quite close. With the proximity, it had been difficult not to admit that Anakin was a—a very handsome young man.

Then Anakin had started to give him a series of eye-based gestures that indicated the Senator was behind them, and the tension broke. Obi-Wan had replied with his own flat look indicating he was _aware_ , thank you. 

The instant the Senator was out of earshot, Anakin had started to drag Obi-Wan roughly out of the cantina, presumably as though they were leaving together in the way two recently-making-out people do. Obi-Wan had sighed, but it’s not really a _bad_ thing that Anakin isn’t experienced at hooking up at bars. Fortunately for them both, Obi-Wan has…well, _enough_ experience in the matter. He had tugged gently at Anakin’s arm so that they looked more like potential lovers and less like they’re storming a Separatist base while dodging droid fire. Anakin had spared a glance back and, for once, let Obi-Wan influence his movements. 

They had convincingly faked a horny-drunken stumble down the hall without incident before Obi-Wan had realized Anakin had chosen the wrong direction and the hallway only led further into the cantina. He had started to turn back, then remembered why they had left the main cantina in the first place, and dragged Anakin into a conveniently empty side room instead.

Which leads them to now, with the two of them sitting on a sparse bed under dim lights, waiting for the Senator to leave, or at least get distracted enough that they can slip out. 

“What do you mean by that?” Obi-Wan finally asks, still not understanding what Anakin wants to continue. Unless he means—

“You know, since I—what’s the term again? ‘Pulled’ you?”

Oh, no. Not this again. 

“There is absolutely no need for us to continue, Anakin.” 

“But, _Master_ —” 

There’s just the faintest hint of a whine. Obi-Wan knows he has to nip this in the bud or they’ll be arguing about this all night. 

“Anakin, it would be completely inappropriate and I’m sure we’ll be leaving shortly anyway.” 

“Yeah, but you haven’t been to the cantina in _ages_ , and it’s kind of my fault that you didn’t pick anyone up, and I’m just saying I can take responsibility.” 

Obi-Wan sighs deeply, trying not to put a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t need a…a pity fuck, Anakin.” It’s not exactly how he intended to put it, but it _is_ a valid argument, so he goes with it.

Anakin wrinkles his nose. “That’s so…” He thinks about it. “… _negative_ , Master! It’s not like I don’t think you’re hot.” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t choke on or spit out his drink, mainly because he doesn’t have one anymore. Although, at this rate, he might need one. 

“Anakin.” He can’t even think of what to say next. “You’re a _Jedi_ ,” he tries, trying to make it sound like a firm rebuke and not a question.

Anakin, to his horror, merely shrugs. “I’ve already made it through an entire relationship, and nothing exploded and no one fell to the Dark Side. Plus, you’re the most stable person I know, Master!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure he likes the implications of that sentence.

“And anyway,” Anakin continues rambling, “You’ve been through _three_ or something, and you’re a councilor!” 

“Those were all from when I was young, Anakin. And the Council is under the impression I’m not doing that anymore—”

“Wait, is that why you don’t want to go to the cantina? Is one of your exes hanging out there?”

“ _No_ , Anakin, that’s not—that has nothing to do with this. I can take care of it without help, thank you.” Anakin looks like he’s about to say something else, so Obi-Wan preempts him with, “After all, you seem to do just fine yourself. What do you do?” 

“My hand,” replies Anakin, far more quickly and casually than Obi-Wan would like. “But I’m not the one projecting into the Force bond, Master.” 

The problem, of course, is that Anakin is _right_. Again. Anakin knows Obi-Wan is struggling with certain biological impulses right now, because Anakin has slithered across the Force bond and is peering under Obi-Wan’s shields as though he’s looking for worms under rocks. 

Obi-Wan is a Jedi Master. He’s a respected Councilor, and a General. He should be able to deal with these things calmly and rationally, and—Anakin casually lifts up another shield and sheds fascination all along the bond as he examines Obi-Wan’s arousal. 

Obi-Wan may be a Jedi Master, and a respected Councilor and a General, but he also has his limits.

“Anakin.” His voice is tight. “Either leave now, or keep your mouth shut.” 

There’s a pause.

“Wait.” Obi-Wan can almost see the pieces clicking together, as Anakin very much does not leave. “So, we _are_ doing this then?”

“Mouth. Shut.”

“Okay,” says Anakin, not keeping his mouth shut at all, “That’s hot.”

Kissing, it turns out, is a good way to stop Anakin from talking, which only adds to the experience. Vaguely, Obi-Wan wonders if this is how Padmé dealt with him for so long. If this first try is anything to go by, Obi-Wan can understand – Anakin doesn’t kiss with the _most_ finesse, but he matches Obi-Wan’s movements like they’re sparring, except instead of saber forms and defensive stances, it’s tongues and lips and small pleased noises in the back of Anakin’s throat. It’s not that Obi-Wan hasn’t had similar experiences, but, well, no one else can anticipate his movements quite so perfectly as Anakin, after all.

The kiss extends longer than Obi-Wan intended. He already feels like things are spiraling out of control and they’re just barely getting started, but he supposes doing _any_ of this already means he’s lost control of the situation. Anakin does that to him, though. 

Still, Obi-Wan feels some of his sense returning as they break apart. “Anakin, I’m not so sure—”

“ _Master_ ,” Anakin interrupts, breathy and wide-eyed, “That was…” He pauses, trying to find the words, then gives up and launches himself into another kiss. 

There’s something very appealing about Anakin being at a loss for words, for once. And there’s certainly also an appeal to the eagerness, and Anakin’s hands groping blindly at his chest even though they’re both still fully clothed. Obi-Wan can’t help but be drawn back in, and before he knows it he’s pressing Anakin down onto the bed. 

Anakin makes a surprised noise as his back hits the firm surface, but it’s followed with a second noise that Obi-Wan is forced to admit is most definitely _not_ surprise. “ _Master_ ,” he repeats, still with that whisper of breathiness in his voice, and rolls his hips upward. 

It’s at this moment Obi-Wan discovers he’s probably enjoying Anakin breathlessly calling him Master a little too much. 

“…should’ve offered earlier,” mumbles Anakin, now peeling at Obi-Wan’s tunic, because of _course_ he takes silence as permission. 

Obi-wan kisses him again, because apparently that’s the easiest way to get him to stop doing whatever he’s doing, and takes advantage of Anakin’s distraction to start undoing the man’s layers of belts. Anakin moans into his mouth and grinds against him again unhelpfully – wasn’t it _Obi-Wan_ who had the problem with needing to get laid? 

The friction is—nice, but Obi-Wan has his pride, so he breaks away to collect himself while he manages to finish undoing Anakin’s belts, which he tosses to the side impatiently. The collar of Anakin’s tunic and undershirt fall open with nothing to keep them together, exposing more of the smooth skin below his neck. 

Anakin reaches for Obi-Wan’s tunic again, as though protesting the imbalance. “Yes— want to see—” 

He rolls up once more, this time not finding any relief as Obi-Wan moves out of reach, and the ensuing whine is actually quite pleasant for once. Obi-Wan leans down to nip at the exposed collarbone. 

“Ah—Master—”

Obi-Wan swears he told Anakin to stay quiet. He nips at the skin again, this time slightly lower, then kisses his way down to the chest. 

“ _Master_.” Now it really is a complaint, as Anakin pushes himself halfway up from the bed. He reaches out, glaring, and forcibly yanks Obi-Wan’s tunic to either side. It’s not exactly the most elegant, but Obi-Wan is discovering all sorts of new Anakin-related interests today. “‘m trying to help _you_ …”

“ _Anakin_.” Obi-Wan had _meant_ for it to be more of a huff and less of a gasp, as Anakin runs warm calloused fingers over his stomach muscles. “I told you, you don’t need—” The same hand has suddenly slid down over Obi-Wan’s waistband, found it tied on too tightly, and instead settled on his clothed but shamefully interested cock. Obi-Wan swallows back a desperate noise as Anakin runs a thumb over the head wonderingly. 

He’s trying, he really is, to take things slowly, but he’s already too far in—there’s a slight buzzing in his head, and Anakin’s interest is very _very_ clear against his thigh, and now Anakin is biting his lip while still mesmerized by the way Obi-Wan twitches under his thumb. Before he can stop himself, Obi-Wan is grabbing Anakin’s hand and moving it away, pinning it to the bed beside his head. 

“Mas—” Anakin starts, but Obi-Wan cuts him off with his own mouth, and that’s more than enough to distract both of them. 

When they finally pull apart, Anakin’s mouth is red and swollen, like he’s just been—Obi-Wan cuts off that thought. At least one of them needs to be able to think straight, and that’s clearly not going to be Anakin, whose chest pulses with panting breaths as he struggles against Obi-Wan’s grip on his wrist. 

“ _Master_ —want to touch you—”

Force, Anakin has listened to directions not at all. Obi-Wan should have known, really. 

Anakin’s free hand moves away from its position gripping Obi-Wan’s back, sliding along his side to his hip before turning inward to pull at the ties of Obi-Wan’s trousers. His hand fumbles suddenly as Obi-Wan tugs at a nipple—Anakin’s whole body arches upward for a moment, trembling. 

When he resettles, Obi-Wan is nipping along the hard muscles of Anakin’s neck and shoulder. It’s still distracting, but Anakin shuts his eyes and reaches for the cloth laces in his mind, moving with the Force. The ties slide free, and Anakin opens his eyes and smirks. “It’s just like—ngh—that exercise—” 

Obi-Wan feels a wave of thoughts hit him at once—pride and awe at the ease with which Anakin uses the Force, concern over what is a doubly inappropriate use of the Force, and, on the other hand, a blast of sheer arousal over how attractive and forbidden and _close_ this all is. It’s difficult to sort through them all while also teasing Anakin’s collarbone with teeth and tongue, but he’s not a Master for nothing. He manages to keep enough of a thought to start working at Anakin’s waistband—a stray thought reminds him this will come in useful later.

In the meantime, Anakin has already peeled off Obi-Wan’s trousers and is staring in fascination at what he’s unwrapped. Obi-Wan’s erection is a messy, straining, dripping thing—larger than Anakin expected, if his enraptured gaze is anything to go by, but _Sith hells_ it’s hot. Before he can stop himself, Anakin is already reaching out to put his hand around it and slide up along the length. 

For a moment Obi-Wan freezes, trying his utmost to keep his last shred of calm, but it’s too late, there’s not enough left in him to stem the tide, and suddenly he’s all but tearing at Anakin’s trousers until they’re rucked down to his knees and Anakin’s own leaking erection is free. There’s a vibration against his neck of Anakin moaning as he instinctively strokes Obi-Wan a second time. This time Obi-Wan lets out a groan and tugs the errant hand away, using what’s remaining of his rapidly fraying concentration to lift Anakin’s knees and push them together and to the side. He’s a little rougher than he’d intended, but Anakin doesn’t seem to mind as he makes a whimpering noise and tries to roll his hips. “Master—”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to stop him. Instead he’s moving on instinct to thrust between Anakin’s now-exposed thighs. Between the smoothness of Anakin’s skin and Obi-Wan’s still-leaking precum, there is surprisingly little resistance. 

“ _Oh_ ,” says Anakin, face flushed with heat. “Oh, that’s— _Master_ —” 

“ _Anakin_ ,” Obi-Wan grits out, and his voice is a ragged growl. He’s helpless to stop, he can’t think of anything else, just that Anakin is incredibly, painfully hot in the way he’s so unselfconsciously and obscenely enjoying Obi-Wan fucking his thighs. He can only thrust further, deeper, until he’s buried to the root and feels himself slamming into Anakin’s cock on the other side, and Anakin is making a noise of surprised pleasure—

And then Obi-Wan is just thrusting, thrusting, as deep as he can go, over and over, and Anakin is crying out with every hit, and it takes every last shred of sheer stubborn pride not to immediately lose himself to the onslaught of passion coursing through them both until the very Force around them _sings_ with it. Anakin twists, hips trying to rock but lacking the position, thighs tensing so _so_ sweetly—

A noise escapes somewhere between a gasp and a groan and it’s a breathless moment between the slap of skin against skin before Obi-Wan realizes it’s his own pleasure escaping into air between them.

“’s … so _good_ , Master, just—ah!” Words spill from Anakin’s lips in a meaningless ramble—Obi-Wan isn’t even entirely sure they’re all in _Basic_ anymore—nor does he _care_. Because when he dares to sweep his gaze over the exquisite creature writhing like some erotic fantasy come to life beneath him, Anakin has already dragged a hand down to capture his own, bobbing erection.

“ _Anakin_ —” He can’t seem to form any other words than the broken noise vaguely resembling a name.

Anakin, meanwhile, _mewls_. His hand jerks along his own length, slick with pre-cum and urgent in his desperation. The tension of his thighs builds in delightful reminder of all the muscle hidden under soft skin. The crescendo of eager, breathy babbling follows, crashing into a single, helpless, “Master!” as he snaps taut, hips jerking up into his hand as he comes, spilling over his hand and on to the sheets below.

It’s nearly enough to unmake him on the spot.

Obi-Wan doesn’t quite strangle the groan of appreciation that comes with the sudden, blissful tension around his erection, nor the unmitigated, licentious _desire_ that slams into him from hearing that word catching and breaking in Anakin’s throat. It’s awful and wrong and all the more damnably _hot_ because of it. His thrusts falter, and he adjusts his grip – too tightly, he knows, but he can’t stop himself. It’s all too much, too intense, too enticing.

Climax hits him with Anakin’s name on his lips, hips driving hard enough that he can see his own semen spurt in thick ropes of cum, mixing with the sticky mess already staining the sheets and Anakin’s thighs.

For a single, blissful minute, nothing but the sound of their soft pants for breath echo in the small room.

Anakin breaks the silence. _Of course_ Anakin breaks the silence. 

“… _Definitely_ should have offered…” He catches his breath, but the pleased smirk lingers. “…earlier.” 

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan groans and collapses down on the bed with a muffled, “ _Mouth_. _Shut._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> w3djyt and I have a joke about Anakin describing their initial hookup in pretty much every AU like “I fell on his dick. I fell on his dick 5 times.” If you’re wondering what comes next, that’s what comes next.


End file.
